All Because of a Pair of Blue Eyes
by DarkerDearieMuchDarker
Summary: Robert Gold is a CEO. He has everything he could ask for out of life. A multi-billion dollar empire. A skyscraper on Wall St that he can call all his own. A penthouse on Park Ave & 66th. But its awful lonely on top and when he turns to hiring a live-in maid for companionship his whole world gets turned on its head. All because of a pair of blue eyes. AU Rumbelle.
1. A Maid

A/N: Hello there all you beautiful people reading this! This is my first story here on FF so please do be gentle! Constructive criticism is always accepted though!  
Anywhooooo I'm totally obsessed with Once Upon A Time and anything Rumbelle just makes my heart melt. So this here is my own little twist on their love story! All characters do belong to their rightful creators I'm just borrowing them for a bit of a whirlwind romance!  
Enjoy!

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To say Robert Gold on Wall Street was parallel to saying Macbeth on Broadway. To utter his name was to break a mirror or to have a black cat cross one's path.

He was a slight man, all lean sinewy muscles and average height, his hair a salt and peppered brown hung just above his shoulders and his dark eyes,almost always considered black, were known to be cold and emotionless. He was never seen in anything but his impeccable three-piece designer suits, nor was he ever without his dark wooded walking cane, the silver handle of which was elegantly carved into the head of a wolf. As was fitting, considering how often he was referred to as the 'Scottish Wolf', a nickname he had earned partially due to his Scottish origins and deep brogue and partially because he was known to be a wolf among sheep with the power to destroy one's business with a simple nod of his head.

Robert Gold knew he was feared. Being CEO of a global marketing empire had its perks. The distress he often times caused others with an offhand glare happened to be one of his favorites. Growing up a poor bastard on the streets of Glasgow, Scotland had made him crave power and wealth and once he had finally obtained what he so craved he had no qualms about basking in it. Such were the thoughts running through Gold's mind as he sat at the head of the polished oak table in his meeting room listening to some young guns make their case for his investment in their company. They were both quaking in their suits, sweating bullets, as they stumbled over their words before him. He had to suppress the almost impish chuckle that rose up in his throat as he put up a hand to stop their babbling.

"That'll be enough," Gold stated in the usual melancholy drawl he used when doing business, "I'll have my secretary get back to you when I've made my decision."

He would invest in their company, for he knew he could turn a profit from it, but there was no sense in making it easy on them. He quite enjoyed the defeated look in their eyes as they sulked their way out of the meeting room obviously assuming that they had failed. This time he made no attempt to cover up his chuckle and grabbing his cane he shuffled out of the room himself. Turning the corner into his office he began to gather his things. He was to leave early today in order to go meet _another_ new maid for his Upper East Side estate.

He sighed in frustration as grabbed his briefcase and made his way into the elevator. He had gone through about four maids in the past couple of months and he could swear that they just kept getting worse and worse. His maids were well paid and their main task to keep his quaint little seven bedroom five bathroom penthouse tidy. He had even gone so far as to offer them one of those bedrooms to live in while they worked for him. For free at that! So why they all insisted on ruining such an opportune gig was beyond him.

The first of this series of maids had thrown a wild party while he had been on business in France and then had the nerve to pretend that nothing of the such had occurred despite having been caught on the security camera's he kept on while he was away. The second had let her boyfriend in while he was at work and had proceeded to fuck the simpering idiot senseless in his own bedroom. The third had been nothing but a nuisance and a gold digger that was constantly attempting to crawl into his bed and was promptly fired after her first week.

The most recent in this unfortunate succession of women he considered to be the worst. She had attempted to get rich by selling the small yet expensive knick knacks that lay around his home assuming that he would not notices their disappearance. If there was one thing he hated more than having to feign politeness to people it was being taken advantage of and so with the help of his trusty security camera's the thieving woman had been both fired and sentenced to two years in a state penitentiary.

He felt a sneer creep its way onto his face at the thought of the useless woman as he settled into his limited edition red Cadillac CTS, beginning his tedious drive home. In all honesty he didn't necessarily need a live in maid. His home would be perfectly fine with a maid that dropped by once or twice a week to freshen things up. Ultimately he was a single man and there was only so much of a mess he could make in such a large place. The real purpose behind hiring a live in maid and continuing to hire a new one despite the failures of the previous ones was his need for a companion. Clawing his way to the top had left him a lonely man with few friends and more enemies than he cared to count. Not that he would ever admit, even to himself, that such were his motives.

He brushed aside the troublesome thoughts of his former maids as he turned and park his car in the private parking garage of his building and hobbled into the elevator. His first stop would be the lobby where he has promised to meet the new maid.

He didn't know much about this woman other than that her name was Belle French and that she was attending NYU to obtain a master's degree in something or another. Her resume had been impeccable; not that being a maid required much and the background screening he had had done on her had come out clean.

There weren't many people in the lobby when he entered. He assumed most were at work considering it was only about two in the afternoon. Even when home many people preferred to lounge about in their own apartments rather than here. Either way the girl wasn't hard to spot and much to his surprise the sight of her made the breath catch in his throat.

She was stunning.

Although she was sitting down he could already tell that she was a petite little thing, no taller than 5'2''. She was all milky white skin and sensuous curves. Her hair dark and auburn fell in ringlets down to her ribcage. All this in itself made her beautiful but what truly caught his attention, what made him feel like he had no air in his lungs, were her eyes. They were big, almond shaped, and framed by long dark eyelashes. Their color was a deeper blue than anything he had ever seen in his life. He could think of thousands of ways to try to describe that color, cerulean, azure, beryl but nothing he could possibly say would ever do it justice.

He was frozen in place. Barely even breathing. His heart threatening to pound out of his chest.

_What the hell was wrong with him?_

He considered stepping back into the elevator, taking some time to compose himself, to catch his breath, to contemplate what in the devil's name had just happened to him, but it was already far too late. She had seen him as soon as he stepped into the near-empty lobby and was now making her way towards him. She was all smiles but her eyes -_ oh those eyes_ - betrayed her true feelings. She was nervous. It seemed it was an eternity before she reached him and he had the pressing urge to turn and run.

But he stood still.

And she grinned.

And he tightened his grip on his cane.

"Hello Mr. Gold."

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Please review and tell me if you would like to see me continue this storyline or if there is anything I can do to improve it! Hope you enjoyed it! (:


	2. And a Chipped Cup

A/N: Ok guys you all totally out did yourselves last chapter I mean the feedback that I got and the amount of people the read it and favorited and followed it I mean WOW I was stunned. And this is why I busted my butt and tried to get this chapter out as fast as a could with it still being up to standard. But yeah thank you so so so much!  
Obvi I don't own any of these characters though I wish I did!  
Enjoy!

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_"Hello Mr. Gold "_

She had an accent. It was a honeyed sound; thick and slow. It was staying in on a winter's day wrapped up in blankets and sipping tea; warm. Nothing like his brogue that came out cold and raspy when he replied:

"You must be Ms. French. "

She nodded; a visible shiver running down her back.

_Fear._

Of course she feared him, everyone did, and he liked it that way. Of course he did. Nodding he motioned towards the elevator and followed behind the girl when she stepped towards it. He breathed in deep through his nose trying to regain what little composure he had left only to be thrown off again but the scent of her. She smelled like cherry blossoms. It was airy and sweet yet heady and it wrapped around him, easing a tension in his shoulders that he hadn't even realized was there. He almost leaned towards her in his attempt to breathe in more of the enticing aroma, but he caught himself and favoring his cane heavily he walked in behind her.

After showing her where to insert the key and explaining how his floor could only be accessed with such a key they began their silent elevator ride up. Twenty-five floors worth of her staring at the floor and him at the ceiling, with the occasional chanced glance back at eachother.

She was wearing a black skirt - long enough to cover yet short enough to have him imagining things he really shouldn't be. Her blouse, a deep blue, was nothing compared to the color of those enchanting eyes of hers but it suited her well and did wonders to accentuate her milky white skin. The stilettos she had donned were the same shade and so tall that should she step any closer to him they would be nearly eye to eye. Her hair, he now noticed, was rather unruly but in the most charming way. It was as though each long ringlet had moved on its own accord creating a mane rather than a hairstyle and he had to resist the urge to run his hand through it.

But what was he thinking? He was not some pre pubescent teenage boy. He was a man, who in his years, had been with a fair amount of women. She was nothing special. Besides, she was young, twenty-seven at most, and he - well - he was twenty years her senior. She would want nothing to do with a man his age. She was to be his maid. Nothing more nothing less. A maid.

After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence the doors finally slid open and they stepped out straight into the living room, dining room, and kitchen that made up the first floor of his penthouse. And though he couldn't say that he decorated it all himself, for he had neither the time nor the creativity, he felt a twinge of pride rise in his chest when he heard her gasp and then turned to find her wide-eyed with mouth agape as she took it all in.

"This place is huge!" she squeals before looking his direction and then clearing her throat and averting her eyes, a pink tinge rising in her cheeks.

He smirked. Looking around, he supposed that it was quite large and the open floor plan only helped to accentuate that. It had quite a dark color scheme, all shades of grey, black, and royal blue, but it suited him just fine. Despite its darkness the room was still almost blindingly bright at the moment due to the sunlight streaming in through the wall to wall panoramic windows that overlooked Central Park. He enjoyed her awe far more than he should and suddenly the urge to turn and run returned. He cleared his throat.

"Why don't you take a seat Ms. French so we can get started," He drawled, his brogue no longer raspy, "would you like some tea?"

"Yes, that would be fantastic." She murmured offering him a shy smile that, unfortunately, made him weak at the knees.

He shuffled his way into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove. His heart almost burst out of his chest when he turned to find that the girl had settled herself onto one of the bar stools by the kitchen island across the from him. He had expected her to go sit on the sectional in the living room area, to put as much space as she could between them, as most people would, but here she was not five feet away from him wearing that same shy smile. Nevertheless, he kept his distance and remained standing on the opposite side of the island rather than joining her on the other bar stool.

"So Ms. French , if you don't mind me asking why is it that a young woman such as yourself, who is working on her master's degree, wants a job as a maid?" He began hoping to take the attention off of himself for she was staring at him intently.

"Well Mr. Gold, to be honest living in New York and paying my tuition is fairly expensive and I figured a job like the one you're offering where I would have the opportunity to both make money and live in a place as gorgeous as this," at this point she lifts her arms to motion to her surrounding,"well that would be kind of perfect." She finished with a giggle and he couldn't help the slow smile that spread across his face.

"I'm glad to hear that you see the beauty of this job, dearie, I've had some trouble, to say the least, with past maids," he grimaced, "I looked over your résumé earlier today and you're incredibly overqualified, you won't have many duties, this first floor is where most of your work will be. Upstairs there are five bedrooms, seven if you count the two I've converted into an office and a meeting room, one of them is my room which you are not required to clean and another is yours which I do hope you intend to keep tidy. So that leaves the three guest bedrooms that are not exactly in pristine shape and five bathrooms that all require some tender love and care if you will but those you can take care of when you have free time."

Robert Gold had always been a man who was good with words. That knew what to say and when to say it and how to say it to get what he wanted. When he was a teenager in Glasgow what little money he earned he did through making deals or bets with people. He had spun his words like yarn on a spinning wheel, it came easy, and no matter how good the deal sounded for the other person in the beginning he always managed to come out on top. People came to him when they were desperate, looking for someone to do a job for them that they couldn't (or wouldn't) do themselves and he took advantage for it fed him and kept him off the streets and more importantly, it gave him the kind of power that he soon learned he couldn't live without.

Yet here he was blubbering uncontrollably before some woman he had just met like a school boy with a crush. Why would she want to do more cleaning on her free time? He felt as though he wanted to be swallowed up by the ground. Luckily he was saved from further embarrassing himself by the high-pitched shrieks of the tea kettle.

He needed her to leave. She was making a fool out of him without so much as a bat of her eyelash. He would need all the time he could get before she moved in next week to prepare himself and to make sure that he would never lose control of a situation, or his own composure, before her again. But he had no way of making her leave until she was done with her tea and they were done discussing the arrangements of her employment with him. Well, he had a way, but that involved being cold and cruel to her and could possibly leave him without a maid, and he wasn't having that.

Being that all as it was he snagged two tea cups out of his cabinet and began preparing their tea, turning briefly to ask whether she took it with one cube or two, and then returning to his task. Once done he took a cup in each hand, leaving his cane behind, and crossed the short distance between the two counters. He tried to look anywhere but at those captivating eyes as he set one of the cups in front of her and calmly took a sip out of the other.

Unbeknownst to him the girl had been attempting to catch his eyes and when she reached for her own cup, distracted by her attempts, it slipped through her fingers and much to her dismay not only spilled tea all over his black granite countertop but chipped the white and blue porcelain cup.

He stumbled backwards reaching first for his cane and then for the towel he kept by the sink as she stood holding the now chipped cup in her hand apologizing repeatedly stammering something about how clumsy she was.

He had cleaned up the tea in a matter of seconds and no damage had been done yet she was still standing and still apologizing when it had all been fixed.

"Oh I'm so sorry I'm just so clumsy and oh your poor cup it's all chipped! I'm so sorry!' She stammered out her accent getting thicker with her emotional state making it hard to understand what exactly she was trying to say. She was clutching the cup in both hands, a fierce blush gracing her cheeks and those deep sapphire eyes looking at him all wide and wild.

"It's just a cup dearie." he said his tone playful and he stared at her questioningly.

"You're not mad?" she replied in more of a statement than a question.

"No."

"Oh. Well then." she mumbled setting the chipped cup back on the counter and then suddenly finding her french tipped nails extremely interesting.

And so, the tables had turned, he had to admit that watching her squirm was very entertaining and while he would love to make her squirm some more he saw an opportunity to kindly usher her out of his penthouse ahead of schedule and he seized it. After reassuring her that the cup was nothing special to him he stated that he had paperwork to catch up on and that it was of pressing importance. Taking the hint she thanked him for the tea, though she never had a sip, and made her way towards the elevator. He followed behind to escort her out by way of politeness. While they waited for the elevator to make its slow journey up to the twenty-fifth floor she turned, her hand brushing his ever so slightly as she did, and said:

"Thank you again Mr. Gold for the job opportunity I mean."

But her words barely even registered. He felt as though his whole body had been set on fire, his suit suddenly felt two sizes too small, and his throat as dry as if he'd just run a marathon. All because she brushed her hand against his in passing. Good lord, this woman would be the death of him and he knew it. He could stop it all right now, he could tell her that there is someone else applying for the job and that they were better suited for it, but he just couldn't deny himself the pleasant torture of seeing those bewitching eyes everyday and knowing he could never say that they were only for him. The ding of the elevator snapped him out of his thoughts and by the time he replied, brogue once again raspy, 'you're very welcome', the doors were already closing.

Inside the elevator the woman felt a shiver run down her back at the sound of his voice.

_Attraction._

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Thanks for reading! & please review if you have the time your reviews totally inspire me and encourage me to keep writing!


	3. Belle

A/N: So sorry for the long wait! I had finals and such but I make no excuses I'll try to be better about it! Your reviews and feed back were absolutely amazing! I can't even begin to tell you how inspired I was by them! Keep that up please!  
Obvi I don't own any characters in this story!  
Enjoy!

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Belle French was dragged out of the pleasant haze of her dreams the day after her meeting with Mr. Gold by the sound of her phone's alarm blaring from on top of her dresser. Ignoring its harsh sounds, she attempted to bury herself further into the warm mountain of sheets and pillows that was her bed, but it was to no avail, and so groaning in frustration she crawled out of bed. Blue eyes barely opened, she fumbled for her phone, promptly turning off the obnoxious beeping and then slipping it into the pocket of her plaid pjs.

The first thing that she realized after having walked into the bathroom and splashed some ice cold water on her face to wake herself up was that it was Sunday. She groaned. She had forgotten to turn off her alarm again and as a result she was now wide awake at seven in the morning on the one day she didn't have class for absolutely no reason.

She let out a little sigh as she trudged into what she supposed could be called a kitchen, but in all honesty was more of a 4 by 4 square with a fridge, an oven, and a sink, to make herself a cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil she looked begrudgingly around at her tiny one bedroom flat. It was all of seven hundred and fifty square feet, sparsely furnished with the cheapest effects she could find on Craigslist, and entirely on the wrong side of town. It was cramped and sad but it was all she could afford.

She had grown up in a provincial little town a few miles outside of Sydney, Australia. Her father had been the mayor and she had lived in a castle of a home. She spent the greater part of her days being ordered around by her father's PR company. She was told what to wear, and what to say, where to go, who to speak to, whom to ignore, when to smile and when to be emotionless, when to wake up and when to go to sleep, where to be and at what time - like a puppet on string. What little free time they allowed her she spent reading and studying, striving for the above 4.0 GPA that she hoped would get her into a prestigious college, away from her father and his demanding staff. Every night she had dreamed of what it would be like to visit to faraway places, to meet new people, and more importantly of what it would be like to make her own decisions.

When she had been accepted into New York University it was as though all her dreams were finally coming to fruition. She had been ecstatic, her father on the other hand had been less than thrilled. He forbade her to go and demanded that she attend a local university lest she wanted to be disowned. She had understood even at the tender age of eighteen that he meant it out of love, that all he wanted and all he had wanted since the day her mother had passed, was to keep her close to him and to protect her. Still, she craved a freedom and control over her own life that she knew she would never have as long as she stayed with him, and so she ran. Her father had been devastated but true to his word he had disowned her and she found herself days later lost, alone, and broke in the miles and miles of towering buildings and mean streets that made up New York City.

Luckily she had been offered a full ride to NYU and was able to live on campus, she found a job that paid for her food and then another that paid for her books, all the while studying like a mad woman in order to maintain the scholarship that gave her a roof over her head.

Since then she had gotten on her feet and now had enough in her bank account to keep her off the streets and put food on the table. She was in her last few months of graduate school, majoring in business administration with a minor in economics, and hoped against hope that she would soon enough thrive in chaotic world of Wall Street. Until then, she had this flat, and in that moment she couldn't have been more grateful.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the squeals of the tea kettle as the water in it began to boil. She had been in the middle of pouring the water into one of her many mismatched tea mugs when realization dawned on her.

In a matter of a week she would no longer be living in the beat up little apartment but in a luxurious penthouse on 66th and Park. She almost knocked the mug off the counter when she jumped back buzzing with excitement.

When she had first found the job she had been sitting on her torn up couch a cup of tea in one hand and The New York Times in the other. She had initially considered it too good to be true. She remembered vividly racing for the phone and then struggling to contain the shakiness in her voice when giving the hiring company her information. She had been told to fax in her résumé and that she would only learn the name of her possible employer if her application was being taken into serious consideration.

Consequently, she had spent the next three days both contemplating the identity of her possible employer and praying that she would be given the job. When the phone rang on the fourth day the curiosity had just about eaten her alive and again she struggled to contain herself. When the man had finally given her the name her heart seized in her chest.

Robert Gold.

The name itself, she knew, was enough to set people into a panic. She had read about him and his company countless times in her textbooks and seen him in everything from the Wall Street Journal to People Magazine and even on CNN. She had expected her employer to be well off, what with offering a live in position for a maid and all, but never had she imagined that it would be someone as accredited as Mr. Gold.

The news had both excited and terrified her.

His reputation preceded him and despite her desperate need of a job she was hesitant to work under such a notoriously cruel man, however, the idea of being around someone who had worked his way up from nothing into a business tycoon thrilled her. And so, a few anxiety filled days later she had received another call informing her that she been given the job and that she had a meeting with the infamous Mr. Gold that following day.

Knowing that with a man like Mr. Gold first impressions were everything Belle had skipped class the morning of her meeting and spent quite a bit of time picking out her outfit and getting ready.

Looking back on the way it had gone she was glad that she at least had looks going for her. She had made a mess in his kitchen, broke one of his possession, and then made a blubbering fool out of herself as she tried to apologize - and all this within the span of thirty minutes.

So much for great first impressions.

Moving into her little living room, cup of tea in hand, she sat on the couch with a huff and a frown. Unlike her, Mr. Gold had been calm, professional, and far more amiable than she had expected.

And she had to admit, if only to herself, far more attractive than she had expected as well.

She had often heard him describe as old and gnarled - a fitting appearance for a man who was supposedly 'evil' and 'beastly' - but when she first saw him in person she thought him to be very regal and commanding. His face was made of sharp edges - high cheekbones and a square chin - a thin, powerful nose and large dark eyes - he was handsome in the way that only men seasoned with age can be. It had been the urge to take a closer look at him, not confidence or gusto, that roused her from her seat and made her walk across the lobby to meet him where he stood by the elevator.

When he had begun to speak and his voice came out in a raspy version of the deep brogue she had heard in interviews she had felt a shiver run down her back. Her heart seemed to have crawled its way into her throat and her palms became so sweaty that she nearly thanked heavens out loud when he didn't move for a handshake.

Her reaction to him had confused her, and it continued to confuse her as she contemplated it over her now empty cup of tea. She felt none of the fear one was supposed to feel when around Mr. Gold, in fact, she was more curious than anything. Here was a man who was constantly in the public eye, he dined with princes and had one on one meeting with the president, and yet few knew anything at all about him other than what was perpetuated by all those awful rumors.

She couldn't deny that she felt drawn to him and in the most unnerving kind of way - the way that one is drawn to the fire during a harsh winter, knowing that if one got too close they would get burned, and yet shuffling closer still to feel the warmth and to watch as the flames licked and flickered against the fireplace.

Unfortunately, neither curiosity nor being drawn to the sense of danger exuded explained the way her heart raced and her palms sweat. No man had ever had that effect on her, not even men she had been in a 'serious' relationship with, so why a man she had just met made her feel that way was completely beyond her.

And so she brushed it off as him just being more handsome and cordial than what she had prepared for, yet she knew it was something more than that.

She looked up at the clock on the wall across from her - 7:30am.

Suddenly next Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

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So how about that? A little look into Belle's background and point of view?  
Hope you liked it!  
Reviews are amazing, whether compliments or constructive criticism, I wanna hear your opinions!


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